


I Like Me Better When I'm With You

by rosy_cheekx



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anger, Canon-Typical The Corruption Content (The Magnus Archives), F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, May i say...what the ghostfriends, Nightmares, Post-Episode 106, let them love each other!, what the girlfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosy_cheekx/pseuds/rosy_cheekx
Summary: Melanie had always been a quiet crier, the only evidence at all the great heaving of her chest and stomach as she took shallow, shuddering breaths. It was only when she felt Georgie’s warm hands stroking her hair, plaiting it and shaking it out to plait the same few strands again that Melanie opened her eyes. She let out a shaky breath of air and rolled over slightly, so Georgie was in her field of vision. Georgie. Focus on Georgie. She was steady and warm and calm. Georgie.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	I Like Me Better When I'm With You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [voiceless_terror](https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/gifts).



> "I fell calmer when I'm with you" prompt fill  
> -  
> Follow me on tumblr @balanced_to_a_tea

_Melanie was choking. Her vision was hazy and clouded in smoke, and the sweet scent of rot mixed with the heady scent of smoke. Was that…burning meat?_

_She whipped around in confusion, trying to see where she was. She could feel heat radiating from every angle, but couldn’t see a source for the blaze. She was in…a lobby? There was a large desk in front of her, and she wanted to read the sign behind it._

_She was in front of the sign now, behind the desk, a neat green cursive reading “Ivy Meadows Care Home.” Melanie felt her stomach drop, and she whipped around, hands clenching into fists. She needed to find her father._

_She was in the hallways now, searching room after room. While there was still no blaze, the smoke stung her eyes and her lungs; she was suffocating on the thick smoke. She knew it._ I have…to get out of here… _Why were her thoughts as hazy as the air? The room she walked into was empty at first glance, windows drawn and dark. The bed…the bed had something in it, a lump under the thin blanket, person-sized._

_She pulled the covers back and screamed. A form, barely recognizable, sagging, sloughing skin covered in sores, pus, and maggots stared up at her. Well, not stared exactly; the eye sockets were empty. But the head lolled to the side and she felt so_ seen _by this figure. Melanie shrieked and staggered backwards, unable to tear her eyes away from the figure as it rose jerkily, as if pulled by strings, and as it rose to its feet out of the small hospice bed, Melanie learned two things. The first was that the figure was wearing stained flannel pajamas and she could make out dark blue printed with yellow and white stars despite the gore seeping from beneath. She knew these pajamas. They had been a Christmas gift a few years ago, for a man who loved astronomy nearly as much as he loved her. And that’s when Melanie realized the second detail; this was her father._

_She screamed as she felt herself fall backwards, into the screen that separated the two beds in the hospice room. The sickly green-yellow sheet encompassed her, and she fought desperately, trying to pull herself out of the tangled mass of fabric, but it was too late. She felt hands on her, on her arms, her waist, her face, felt the pus and maggots crawling and dripping over skin and into her mouth as she tried to scream for help._

_“Melanie.” It was her father’s voice-no, it was Jon’s. Even though she was in the dark, trying to escape her certain demise, he was still somehow here, in the peripheral of her vision._

_“Get the **fuck** away from me!” She pushed desperately (no fucking way did she want that goddamn Archivist here) with all her might and felt her hands, trapped in the screen, hit something solid, and she was falling…_

**Crack**.

“Mel!”

Melanie was lying on the cold hardwood floor, or at least most of her was. Her calves were twisted into what must have been the top sheet of her bed. Most of her body was, actually, but her head was free, and she could just see movement above her. Oh god, he was coming. That pus-covered thing that used to be her father was coming to infect her. Melanie twisted valiantly against her wrappings, pulling one arm out and using it to shove down the rest of the sheet until her upper body was free. She heard shuffling as Georgie’s face came into view, curly hair mussed from sleep framing her face.

“Oh my god, Melanie.” Her voice was soft and warm, the tone she only heard used for her, and she held her hands out hesitantly. “Are you alright luv?”

Melanie stared back in confusion. _It was just a dream_. Looking back, it was obvious. Now she felt the salt of tears in her mouth and the stiffness around her eyes; she had been crying. She opened her mouth to respond and tried to decide. _Was she alright?_ She tried to find the words, searched to explain the cocktail of fear and anger and guilt and _anger_ she felt all the way to her bones. Anger at Elias, at Jon, at herself, anger at the world for deciding it was fair for her to experience all this while feeling utterly helpless at it all.

A fresh bout of tears overtook her and Georgie took the opportunity to help untangle the small woman, tugging the sheet from her hips so Melanie could let the gravity drag her legs gently to the floor. She cooed to her softly as she did so, murmuring comforting nonsense until she was out of her cotton cocoon. When she was free, Melanie curled up on the wooden floor, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head, where she could feel the ache of a small bruise forming. Melanie had always been a quiet crier, the only evidence at all the great heaving of her chest and stomach as she took shallow, shuddering breaths. It was only when she felt Georgie’s warm hands stroking her hair, plaiting it and shaking it out to plait the same few strands again that Melanie opened her eyes, the planes of her bedroom floor expanding in front of her. She let out a shaky breath of air and rolled over slightly, so Georgie was in her field of vision. _Georgie. Focus on Georgie. She was steady and warm and calm. Georgie._

“M’hi,” she muttered weakly, swiping at her eyes furiously as she let the storm of tears roll away, the last rumbles of thunder distant as she steadied her mind and lungs.

“Hi, darling. Bad dream, huh?” Georgie took Melanie’s face in her hands and swiped at the residual tears, quickly drying into salty patterns that made her skin feel taut and dry. Leaning over her gently, Georgie’s thick curls swung over her face and Melanie was reminded absently of jungle vines, wild and beautiful. Melanie nodded into the hands that held her— _warm, soft, safe_ — and winced as the movement of her neck made her head throb.

“Ngh…fuck.” She clutched the back of her head and sat up quickly, exhaling shakily as her vision swam slightly.

“Ooh, hey be careful. Sounded like that hurt a lot. Let me see if I have…” Georgie’s voice cut off and she let go of Melanie’s cheeks, turning to the bedside table behind her to rifle in the drawer blindly before pulling out a bottle of acetaminophen. “There we are. Here.” She shook out two pills for Melanie, who dry-swallowed them immediately and scrubbed at her own face with the palms of her hand. Her back was up against the bed, knees drawn to chest, and she pinned her arms against her stomach and thighs, appreciating the pressure brought on by the movement, grounding her to reality. “Do you wanna…?”

Melanie nodded weakly and Georgie dragged herself next to Melanie, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and drawing her in gently. Melanie let her head fall to Georgie’s shoulder, listening to her heartbeat, focusing on the consistent thrums to steady her.

“Do you...” Georgie’s voice brought her out of her reverie. “Do want to talk about it?”

Melanie shrugged against Georgie’s arm, threading their fingers together. “Stupid fucking Elias,” she whispered. “I hate him, and I hate Jon, and I hate this stupid _fucking_ institute.” Melanie had told Georgie about what Elias had told her today, what he had _done_ to her. “I hate that I’m stuck in this new world with danger and fear and ghosts-” her leg throbs absently, a reminder of how this had all started. She pinches her thigh to focus. “with all these posh idiots who don’t know how to properly defend themselves.”

Georgie was quiet, except for the periodic hum of understanding, hand moving softly over Melanie’s arm as she spoke.

“And I’m so angry with Jon for-for being so reckless all the time and so self-righteous and Elias’s stupid powers and my _dad_.” Her voice caught. “I wish I’d known about my dad, George, I wish I could’ve visited him more, checked in, asked if he needed anything. Maybe I’d’ve known something was wrong and taken him on holiday or something and everything would’ve been _fine_ and he’d be fine and I wouldn’t feel this guilt and anger and sadness and hatred bubbling up inside of me.”

Georgie squeezed Melanie’s shoulder then, holding her firm against her side. “Are you still angry? Right now, I mean. We could, dunno, bake some bread and punch some dough or we can play monopoly or have a row or something?”

Melanie took a second, trying to conjure her emotions into easy, compartmentalized words for her feelings. “I feel guilty. And frustrated. And tired. But…not angry, no.” She lifted her head from Georgie’s shoulder then, catching the other woman’s eye. “I don’t know why but I just feel calmer when I’m with you.” She took Georgie’s jaw in her fingertips and kissed her lips softly, sweetly, letting the warmth of Georgie’s arms wrap around her in a bubble of _safe_. “I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I didn’t hurt you did I?”

Georgie shook her head, eyes soft and bright as the pair let their foreheads fall together and rest there. “No, I think you might’ve hit the wall or something to push yourself out of bed. Are you alright? What were you even dreaming about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The pain was fading now, and Melanie felt the back of her head. No goose egg, though there may be a nasty bruise. She relayed as much and Georgie nodded, gently leading her back to bed as she did so. Once they had curled up under the duvet, sheet abandoned, Melanie told her about her dream, wrapped tight in the safety and warmth of Georgie’s arms and with The Admiral purring softly by their feet.

-

Melanie wasn’t sure when they had moved from talking about her dream, to talking about other things, to sleep, but she did know the next morning that she had a long way to go, but in that moment, held by the sleeping form of the woman she cared for, woman she loved, that she was happy.


End file.
